by Janet Fitch
Can a poet's daughter see beauty even in the face of a series of foster homes?
Reviewed by: Jennifer Muzinic
About Jennifer Muzinic
So insanity comes in many forms, and mothers aren't excluded from joining the party. This book FREAKED ME OUT--awesomely beautiful and descriptive lines woven into a truly fascinating, can't-help-but-look-at-the-train-wreck story of a young woman's childhood. I couldn't put the darn thing down. I couldn't second guess the characters or predict the next scenes--these people are just too real, too crazy...
This book is so far from nurturing, comforting, maternal--it's a credit to the author that the key characters are primarily women. That doesn't sound exactly right, I know, but if you read as much as I do, you get a little tired of the heroine/vileness stereotypes--earth mother, feminist, sex kitten, and so on. Not that these women AREN'T in some level all of those things, but they are individuals beyond such limited boundaries. And these girls will scare the bejesus out of you, because they aren't exactly nice, either.
As Astrid narrates, you'll acquire her knowledge and experience--only by reliving each horrible step in her childhood. You meet Ingrid, birth mother and jailed poetry-goddess, and each foster family that lends a circle of Astrid's hellish upbringing their own unique flavor. Your jaw drops open somewhere around the first page, and hangs there until you close the book. Can it be true? Do people really live this way? How could it happen?
As a poet's daughter, each word choice is beautiful, perfect, so wonderful it's difficult to imagine how they can describe such gritty experience. You'll shadow Astrid's struggles with weariness and hope, her artist's heart seeing the beauty shining through even after she's lost so much already. And even though you don't want to, you make Astrid's mistakes alongside her, knowing that this is not going to work out, but not knowing how terribly.
That being said, how can I tip you off? If you know what you're going to be faced with, you'll think about it, make your decisions based on YOUR upbringing. That just won't do, you know. You've got to be raised by Ingrid--beautiful, rigid, poisonous, mother. Astrid has no control, and you can't either. Nope, you'll just have to go through it yourself, with Astrid.
Click here to buy this book, or read more about it at Amazon.com: White Oleander
Copyright © by Jennifer Muzinic, 2002
Reviewed by Jennifer Muzinic:
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